Eulalia! by Brian Jacques; Brian Jacques

Author:Brian Jacques; Brian Jacques
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group, Inc.
Published: 2010-03-18T07:00:00+00:00

21

The moles carried the unconscious watervole into the gatehouse, laying him out upon the bed. Fenn Bluepaw sniffed in disgust.

“I take it you’ll be removing that…thing from my bed as soon as it comes to. Hmph! Filthy paws and matted fur, I’ll have to scrub the counterpane and drape it in the orchard, so a good, clean breeze can dry it!”

Abbot Daucus commented drily, “That’s what I like about you, Miz Bluepaw, you’re so kind and tender-hearted.”

The squirrel Recorder bristled. “Well, it’s not your bed that scruffy beast’s laid out on!”

Daucus nodded. “Right, marm, but if you want him off your bed, you’d be better employed by fetching Sister Atrata, instead of being so harsh upon a senseless creature. Once the good Sister brings him around, then we can move him from your bed.”

Benjo Tipps, accompanied by Orkwil Prink, wandered in to view the watervole. Redwall’s stout Cellarhog looked slightly rueful. “Mayhap I shouldn’t have chucked that bungstarter so hard at him. He might never waken proper.”

Orkwil curled his lip when he looked closer at the patient. “It wouldn’t be a great loss if’n he didn’t, Mister Tipps. I’ve had a few run-ins with this ’un, he’s a mean-spirited an’ bad-tempered ole watervole.”

Sister Atrata entered the gatehouse with Fenn Bluepaw in attendance, still complaining bitterly. “The very idea of it, some raggedy-bottomed, barrel-bellied vole, cooling his paws on my nice, clean bed!”

The Sister silenced her with a single glare. “Yes, thank you, Miz Bluepaw, I’ve heard enough!” Leaning over the watervole, she opened one of his eyes, giving an instant diagnosis, as she unstuffed a pawful of feathers from the mattress. “Hmm, he’s about ready to be wakened. Bring that lamp over here, Orkwil.”

Igniting the feathers from the lamp flame, the Sister let them burn for a moment then extinguished them. Holding the smoldering material under the watervole’s snout, Sister Atrata allowed him to inhale the acrid fumes. He shot bolt upright, gagging and gasping. The Sister smiled cheerily. “Up you come now, let’s get a dressing on that head lump of yours, and a draught of my belladonna potion. You’ll be right as rain before you know it!”

Skipper Rorc stepped in, taking charge of the vole. “Not so fast, matey, you’ve got some questions to answer. C’mon, let’s take a stroll on the walltops, this place smells of smolderin’ feathers, phew!”

The watervole hung back, he was in a surly mood. “Got to get me ’ead treated first, after wot that spikepig did t’me.”

The burly otter squeezed his paw in a viselike grip. “If’n you call Mister Benjo Tipps a spikepig agin, I’ll put another lump atop o’ the one you’ve already got. Now watch yore mouth, vole, an’ keep a civil tongue in yore ’ead when I talks to ye. Out ye go!”

Skipper pushed the vole in front of him. Together with Benjo and Orkwil, they mounted the steps to the walltop. Orkwil strode alongside Skipper, as he and Benjo walked toward the north parapet, keeping the watervole lodged firmly between them.

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